Winter Break

 

Herb looks over the Shenandoah Valley

Last Sunday was a rare, near-record warm winter day--almost 70 degrees! Such weather was too good to waste, so Herb and I drove up to Skyline Drive for the afternoon. We parked at the Dickey Ridge Visitor Center lot (the visitor center was closed) and took the Fox Hollow Trail down a hill on the east side of the mountain. At the lower part of the trail there is an old cemetery and several large rock piles that must have been part of an old homestead before this became a national park. There were only two gravestones, and it was not until we saw the names on the them that we realized that the trail had been named after the Fox family's homestead, not the animal which we see infrequently around here and our hunt country residents love to chase.

It was so warm we shed our coats and wool scarves on the trek back up the hill. There was not much in the way of wildlife to observe--a family we passed told us they'd seen some woodpeckers up the hill, but by the time we got back up they were gone. I spotted some feathers and remains of a small woodpecker on the ground--a hawk must have made a meal of one of the birds a few days before, as the feathers on the muddy ground were matted.

Low clouds washed like an ocean around the mountain tops to the east when we started our hike but by the time we returned the skies were starting to clear. We decided to drive on a bit farther and stop at a few of the overlooks nearby to prolong the outing.

It was great fun to survey our new home here in the Shenandoah Valley from above. We lingered at Signal Knob Overlook watching the play of light and shadow across the landscape as the clouds opened up here and there. The sun lit parts of the valley casting the hills in sharp relief while other parts remained in shadow; a glider soared silently near Signal Knob. I wished I'd had my kit and the time to paint this drama, but the light changed so quickly, that would have been impossible anyway. It was enough for now to be able to enjoy and photograph it, perhaps for later use.

A Christmas Orchid

Brassidium, Miltassia or Miltonidia?

One of the mystery orchids I bought at a roadside stand in Florida a couple of years ago put out another flowering shoot recently--in fact, four of my orchids have developed flowering stems this fall. One orchid actually has two flowering stems! They really seem to like the environment in our new house, perhaps because it's a bit chilly at night. That 10-degree difference between day and night-time temperatures seems to play an important part in coaxing orchids to bloom.

The first bud on this plant began to open on Christmas Eve, the second a few days later, and it looks like the third one will open in another day or two.

I've tried to identify the genus-- it's likely a hybrid of two or perhaps three different genera, but which ones? The shape of the flower appears to indicate perhaps one parent is Brassia, the spider orchid, because of the longish tepals. The bi-color hues and ornate labellum are similar to some of the Brassidiums (Brassia and Oncidium hybrids) I've seen on-line. But there are also hybrids of the Miltonia genus known as Miltassia or "Mtssa." Another of my orchids (greenhouse-bought) is labeled as "Mtdm" short of Miltonidium, presumably a hybrid of Miltonia and Oncidium.  Not being a botanist, I'll probably never be able to determine for sure, but it's fascinating to try to guess. I can't wait to see what the other mystery orchid will look like when it blooms.

Close-up of flower.

The Magic of Twinkling Lights

Driving to Front Royal in the evenings at this time of the year when the sun is setting and dusk sets in before one is halfway home, it's wonderful to see the Christmas lights and decorations spring up along the way. It never ceases to amaze me how a few strings of colored lights and decorations can transform the humblest bungalow or ramshackle old farmhouse into a shining wonderland...

This part of Virginia's countryside seems to make a tradition of lighting the seasonal gloom with a particular charm. The town of Middleburg with its store fronts all lit up becomes a story-book village during the Christmas season, and some of the old houses in Upperville look just like gingerbread cottages.

You can imagine my delight as I was driving over a hill on the other side of Upperville to come upon the sight pictured above: a house and pond with a small island outlined in lights. At first I thought it might be a creche on the island (that would have been gutsy), but upon closer inspection, like most decorations today, it's purely secular--a Santa, a sled and some reindeer. The ambiguity of the scene is still very evocative.

A few evenings ago I stopped to take this photo and found a plaque at the gate of the estate--Mulwyck it said. Over the summer and fall I've observed the little island furnished with Adirondack chairs, and now this lavish display! I wonder how the owner reaches the island--does he have a canoe or pontoon boat at the back? In any case, this one wins my best of the season award for the year.

 * * *

 We too have done our best this year to decorate the new house enough to match our neighbors' splendor. It's almost a necessity when you live where there are no streetlights. Merry Christmas, y'all!

Our house.

More Ladyslippers

Yellow Ladyslipper, watercolor 22" x 13"

This is the second version of my piece for the Botanical Intensive class I missed last spring that I needed to get credit for. It's good practice for me to do this now to better develop the final painting I intend to submit for the BAEE project (Botanical Artists for Education and the Environment) next year.

This orchid is really challenging to depict, and such a complicated subject I probably shouldn't have chosen it for my project but it's so beautiful and fascinating, I can't resist. There are many faults in it, which I'm working to correct, to clear up confusing visual information. Below is the first version I did, which was with the wrong palette. The difference between the two palettes is subtle, but the colors in the earlier version look rather Disneyish in comparison with the more natural colors of the other.

The Virginia State Arboretum

The Blandy Farm in November, oils on panel, 9" x 12."

Yesterday afternoon I finally got out to paint in oils, something I haven't had a chance to do since last spring. I drove out to the Virginia State Arboretum, part of the Blandy Experimental Farm, which I pass every morning and evening on my way to work. The Blandy Farm is a 700-acre facility deeded to the University of Virginia by Mr. Graham Blandy, a wealthy New Yorker.

The Arboretum is a lovely place with many wonderful huge specimens of native and exotic conifers, boxwoods and other unusual plants. The previous weekend I'd taken Herb there to show him the place and we walked around to explore the various gardens and plantings.

It was difficult to choose a view--I wanted to show the Blue Ridge Mountains in the background, but didn't have much time to look around so I chose this view from the main house looking through some dramatic evergreens down to the fields. Though most of the foliage is now gone, the grasses on rolling hills showed some lovely colors in the afternoon sun, with the lengthening shadows for interest.

My skills have become rather rusty during these months of moving, and I'm afraid I didn't do justice to the landscape or the afternoon light. It didn't help to have a large group of very loud teenagers (college students I presume) who were having some sort of program nearby, and were making so much noise as to make it impossible to concentrate or enjoy the place (were we ever this loud at that age or have young people become ruder?).

My painting turned out rather ordinary, yet it felt so good to be out painting again! As the shadows lengthened it became chillier, and my hands were starting to get numb; it seemed like a good time to stop as the light was fading. I hope to do better on my next session as I get back into practice.

Refining Graphite Studies

Dendrobium light & shade study

In our Drawing 309 class we have been working on refining our graphite techniques: using the botanical piece we did in our previous class we are now developing a finished piece in graphite. The process involves using tracing paper overlays in layers to develop first, a light and shade study (above). The second layer is a value study superimposed on the light and shade (below). A third layer, which I am just starting, will deal with details of the flowers.

Dendrobium, value study superimposed over light and shade

In addition to the main project, we did a couple of other exercises: a sketch of some button mushrooms, and shading a bunch of grapes to clarify what is in front and what is in back. It's interesting to apply the same principles of articulating different planes that I've used in landscape painting to a drawing where the focus is so much smaller, and the planes may be only a few inches in distance, rather than miles. The same principles apply to both.

Calm During the Storm

The Trees Before the Storm, pastel, 9" x 12."

I took some photos of my new back yard Saturday before last--there is a hollow back there where the ground drops off steeply and a rivulet of runoff has allowed this copse of tall oaks and other trees to grow lush. The trees were at the peak of their color in the early morning sun.

This past Monday morning my boss sent the word out--we should all leave at noon to get home safely before Hurricane Sandy hit our area, expected to be around 8 PM that night. As I was driving west on Route 50 the rains were coming down steadily and the gusts of wind getting stronger. I prayed that no trees or big branches would fall as I was passing underneath--there are so many old  and fragile trees along the way--or that flooding would not have closed down some of the low-lying bridges.

Oddly, it was raining less when I got to Front Royal; I guess being farther away from the coast lessened somewhat the effects of the storm. But as the afternoon progressed, the skies darkened and the wind began to howl. I knew by morning there would be few leaves left on the trees, so I was glad I'd had  chance to photograph the lovely color while it lasted.

What better way to spend a stormy evening than in the studio? My new studio has a big window overlooking the back yard. It was too dark to see much out there as I worked from my photos, snug and warm while the wind howled. It seemed wondrous to find myself in this new safe harbor after the upheaval of moving this past summer. After I had most of my painting done I went downstairs and Herb lit the gas fireplace for that extra cozy feeling.

In the morning I went in to look at my little painting and saw out the window (no surprise!) that the leaves were down and one can now see the outbuildings of the farm on the other side of the steep ravine. My newly-planted trees all came through the storm just fine, and the saffron is starting to sprout.

Herb carved our traditional jack o' lantern to display for Halloween, but disappointingly, not a single trick-or-treater came to our door. There are only a few children in our new neighborhood, so I suppose it's not done around here.

A Rose for My Garden

Just-planted red 'Double Knockout' rose

I still miss my old garden in Columbia with its mature trees, the huge blue hydrangeas at the base of the deck, and the topiary evergreens in front...but if there is one plant I miss the most, it's the red 'Knockout' rose my sister gave me a few years ago. The plant had reached optimum proportions and was covered with lovely blossoms all season long. At the height of bloom one or two sprigs could fill a vase. Herb and I really enjoyed having a fresh rose to display in a bud vase for half of the year, so I just had to have a rose for my new garden.

We stopped by Springtime Garden Center yesterday after our regular stop at the farmer's market and I bought my rose, a red 'Double Knockout'. A thunderstorm had been predicted for the afternoon, but the dark clouds raced overhead, and it turned out to be a beautiful fall afternoon, breezy yet warm--perfect for gardening.

It took about two hours of backbreaking labor with the pick to prepare the soil--I dug up two bucket-fulls of rocks, some so large they could have been used for stacked fencing. I mixed in commercial topsoil with the clayey dirt and bits of old mulch until I finally had that proverbial $20 hole for my $5 plant. It felt so good to finally get the rose into the ground!

All this back-breaking work will hopefully pay off next spring and for years to come--I've been neglecting my artwork in favor of gardening this fall. My mother was a true artist when it came to gardening--her garden was such a lovely piece of work, with bold and unexpected combinations of colors and foliage, a real "garden for all seasons." I'm finding that plants are a much harder medium to work in than any paint I've ever tried.